What is this masochistic urge,
This strange compulsion to ignore important biorhythms,
Walk this jumbled path

As if the sacrifice of time and inspiration weren’t enough
As if the eyelids of the mind’s eye haven’t closed and given up

We stumble on

With leaden limbs
With muses bleary-eyed and cranky
Cycles interrupted,
Punch-drunk, slap-happy staring at empty page

Coffee shakes and face unshaven,
Triscuit traces on the mousepad
Eyes bloodshot and glazed,
Just a reflection of our weary minds

The battle for unconsciousness
Necessity of sleep ignored
Dig deep and deny every conscious thought imploring you to rest

Nyx cackles gleefully as we deny her Hypnos power
All we have to do is hold the bastard off for two more hours